


Mischief

by Gemmiel



Series: Mischief [1]
Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M, Wall Sex, self pleasuring, ten/donna - Freeform, tenth doctor/donna noble - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-18
Updated: 2014-11-18
Packaged: 2018-02-26 04:08:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2637446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gemmiel/pseuds/Gemmiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The TARDIS plays matchmaker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mischief

**Author's Note:**

> Previously posted elsewhere under the name EllyF.
> 
> Warnings for sex, language and self-pleasuring, as well as an utter and complete lack of plot:-). Based on a prompt by tkel_paris.

"Stop it. Stop it right _now._ "

The TARDIS hummed innocently, and the Doctor glared at the ceiling as he strode away from the console room.

"You know _exactly_ what I mean. I'm trying to teach Donna to fly you, and you keep jolting and rolling and tumbling so she falls into my lap when I'm sitting in the jump seat."

Another hum.

"Ha. Donna's not _that_ bad a pilot. I know what you're doing, old girl. Don't play innocent with me."

This time, the TARDIS' hum sounded a bit like an evil chuckle.

"It is _not_ amusing," he said, jabbing a forefinger at the ceiling. "She and I are just mates, and I can't have her in my lap every five minutes. It makes things... awkward."

The TARDIS whirred. Outright laughter this time, he interpreted.

"It's not like that between us," he snapped. "You know it's not. And no, I have not been reacting to her in my lap. Well... maybe a little. I can't help it, you know."

The TARDIS emitted a rude sound rather like a raspberry. He came to a halt and smacked the corridor wall.

"Oh, I _know_ what you're doing. You like Donna, so you want to keep her around, and you reckon the easiest way to do that is to push the two of us into each other's arms."

Another innocent hum. He rested his hand against the wall and continued ranting.

"Please. You're not fooling me, not a bit. You did the exact same thing with Sarah Jane. You know you did. Kept rolling so we wound up plastered against the wall together, over and over again. Eventually the situation between us got so uncomfortable that I had to drop her off on Earth. You and I both know that whole thing about Gallifrey was just an excuse."

_Hmmmmm._

"And unless you want me to take Donna back to Chiswick--"

The wall suddenly delivered a shock of electricity. He yelped, and yanked his hand away. It hadn't been enough to really hurt him, but the message was clear: _Don't you dare._

"Fine," he snapped. "I don't want to take her home either. But I'm bloody sick of you trying to push us together. You don't understand humanoids properly, and every time you interfere in my relationships, you just muck everything up. So stop with the mischief, or I'll damn well take her back to Earth."

He was bluffing, and he knew it. He had absolutely no intention of losing Donna. But he sounded as firm as he could, and tried to echo the firmness mentally. The TARDIS hummed uncertainly, then finally grumbled sullenly in acquiescence.

"Good," he said. "Glad we understand one another."

He gave her wall an affectionate pat, and she zapped him again. He yelped.

"What the hell was that for?"

She hummed softly.

_You're bossy._

"You're _my_ ship," he growled indignantly. "I'm supposed to be bossy. I'm in charge, after all."

Her amused hum followed him as he stalked down the corridor.

_That's what you think._

*****

He really needed a cold shower.

It wasn't that he was aroused by Donna, specifically. Really, it wasn't. But Time Lord males reacted pretty much the same as human males did to a well-rounded female bum in their lap, pressing up against--

Well. He _really_ needed a cold shower.

His biology was actually working against him, because although Time Lords took longer to get physically aroused, once they became interested, it was extremely difficult to make the reaction subside. Orgasm or cold water were really the only two possible solutions to the problem. And he was not having sex with Donna. No. Absolutely, positively, definitely not. Nor was he going to take a hands-on approach to the problem. He was a Time Lord, not a pimply human teenager.

He forced his mind away from the thought of hands-on activities as he arrived at his bedroom. He strode into the loo, stripped off his clothes, and turned on the water.

It was hot.

He fiddled with the knobs, but no matter what he did, it wouldn't turn cold. He glared up at the ceiling.

" _What_ did I say?"

More innocent humming.

"I want," he said through his teeth, "a cold shower. Now."

The TARDIS managed to sound confused. _Oh, isn't it cold?_

"You know it's not. Fix it."

The TARDIS whirred for a few moments, then whined apologetically, conveying quite clearly that she seemed to be having difficulties with the plumbing.

"Should have let them decommission you with the rest of the Type 40s," he grumbled, and stepped into the shower. It was hot, pleasantly so. Ordinarily he would have enjoyed it. But right now, it did absolutely nothing to fix his difficulty. If anything, the sensuous rush of heat and moisture over his skin only compounded the problem.

He leaned back against the shower wall with a sigh. _Damn it._ He couldn't walk around for the rest of the day with a big knob. Donna was bound to notice, sooner or later. And it wasn't going to go away on its own.

Which left only one solution to his dilemma.

He wrapped his hand around his erection, almost embarrassed by the spasm of pleasure that wracked him. He was a Time Lord. He was supposed to be in control of his body at all times. He wasn't supposed to--

 _Oh, the hell with it,_ he thought, and moved his hand.

It felt good. It felt very good. He'd almost forgotten how pleasurable this sort of thing was, how much he enjoyed giving in to his body's needs every once in a while. He tried very, very hard to focus on the motion of his hand, and nothing else, but images spilled through his mind despite his best efforts to hold them back. Donna, in his lap, pressed up against him. His nose in her hair, inhaling the sweet fragrance of strawberries that he associated with her. 

In real life, he'd pushed her away and bolted from the console room. In his fantasies, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer and--

A low groan broke from his lips. Time Lords weren't supposed to moan, either, but he was damned if he could help it. He imagined her ginger hair falling loose over her bare skin as he divested her of her clothing, imagined her naked in his lap, unfastening his trousers and--

His cock jerked hard, weeping precome, and another groan rolled out of his chest. 

He stroked his hand over the head of his cock, moistening it, and then thrust against the slickness of his palm hard and fast, almost sobbing at the hunger coiling in his balls. He hadn't come in so long, and just the thought of a climax, heat rushing up out of him in long, intense spasms, made him ache with an unbearable need. 

_Donna,_ he thought, envisioning her bright hair, the way her hands felt against him, the softness of her body when she hugged him. He imagined her saying _Spaceman_ in a low, throaty voice, and he moaned, jerking his fist so violently he almost went to his knees with the pleasure of it. He'd entirely given up on the idea of controlling himself. If that made him a pimply teenager, so be it. He couldn't stop didn't want to stop just wanted to come and come and come...

"Doctor?"

The voice, her voice, almost startled him into crying out. He yanked his hand away and stood there, panting, his body still aching for release. Donna was right here, in his loo, and he'd been--

The glass was frosted, but he still had the dreadfully embarrassing thought that she might have seen-- and if not, she'd certainly heard--

His cheeks flushed red. The rest of him followed suit. 

"Donna," he squeaked. 

"I'm sorry to bother you." She didn't sound particularly apologetic or flustered, and he hoped desperately that meant she hadn't noticed anything. He peered through the frosted glass, and was fairly sure she was standing at the door to the loo, carefully not looking in his direction. "But you left me in charge, and I just noticed the TARDIS has a blue light flashing on her console. I was worried it might be important."

 _I'm going to kill you,_ he mouthed at the ceiling. The TARDIS hummed smugly, unconcerned by his threat.

"That's nothing," he said out loud. "Just means she's running low on fuel. We'll need to stop by the Rift, that's all."

"But..." She sounded puzzled. "We were at the Rift three weeks ago."

"Yes, well, it's been a busy three weeks." _And the TARDIS thinks she's being clever when in fact she's just being a major pain in the arse,_ he added mentally.

"I'm sorry." She sounded uncharacteristically meek. "I should have remembered what that light meant, but there are so many controls on the console..."

"It's all right," he assured her. "There's a lot to remember."

"Okay. Well, I'll get back to the console room. Go ahead and finish your shower."

"I will." He planned on finishing more than just his shower, but he forebore to say so.

He strained his ears, listening for the sound of her feet, and then--

" _Aaaaarrrrrghhhhh!_ "

Time Lords were fairly resistant to temperature changes, but he had a naturally cool body, and the sudden extreme heat of the shower water scalding his skin forced a reaction. He squawked, shoved the door open, and fled the shower stall, running on adrenaline and instinct.

And then he paused, dripping water all over the floor, and turned redder than before.

At the sound of his pained squawk, Donna had turned and rushed back to the bathroom, and now she looked at him, her eyes wide. "You're... naked," she said, as if she'd expected him to be showering in swim trunks.

"Oh... yes," he said, trying to sound casual about it, like he wandered around nude in front of her every day. "Sorry. Issues with the plumbing."

She looked down, at his huge erection, and a faint smile curved her mouth.

"I can see that," she said.

"Um..."

"I reckon this explains why you left the console room so quickly," she said, her voice soft.

"Um..." He was, he was fairly certain, as red as it was possible for him to be. Or possibly more red than possible. Yes. Whatever colour was redder than red, that colour was currently staining his cheeks.

He couldn't explain to her about Time Lord physiology, about how he was slow to start but that once a reaction had occurred, it didn't just go away. He could only stand there, blushing and dripping on the floor.

Somewhere above him, over the rushing water in the shower, he heard a rhythmic humming that sounded very like laughter. _Smug_ laughter.

He was bloody well going to decommission the old girl himself. With an ax.

Donna was still looking at him. Right at him. His cock bobbed, despite his best efforts to control his reactions. He couldn't help it. He'd been trembling on the edge of orgasm when she interrupted him, and unlike a human, his arousal wasn't going to subside no matter how embarrassed he was, or how inconvenient it was to have a hard-on at this precise moment.

"Is that because of me?" 

Her voice was soft, and he thought he detected a pleased note in her tone. At least she didn't sound angry or disgusted, and she wasn't yelling, _Oi, Spaceman, I thought I told you **no** mating!_

"It's really because of the TARDIS," he blurted.

Her gaze jerked to his face, and her eyebrows shot up.

"You're a right pervert, aren't you?"

"Not like that," he said, blushing hotter than before. Assuming that was possible. "I mean, earlier-- she rolled, and you wound up in my lap, and--"

Donna blinked at him. "Are you saying she did that on _purpose?_ "

"She likes you," he explained. "She wants to keep you around."

"Oh." She considered that, then spoke to the ceiling. "I'm not going anywhere, you know. I like it here. I like travelling. I even like _him_ , though God only knows why. I intend to stay forever."

The TARDIS hummed warmly.

"So you really don't have to... you know... play matchmaker, or whatever it is you're doing. We're just mates."

Whirring that sounded distinctly like laughter.

"It's true!" Donna said indignantly. "I mean, we're standing here, and he's naked, and I don't have the slightest desire to--" She looked at the Doctor. "To, er... um..." She frowned. "What was I saying?"

"Maybe," he suggested, "you could say it outside and let me, er, finish my shower."

"Oh." She glanced at his erection as if she just couldn't help herself. "Right. I'll do that."

She turned back toward the door of the loo, but it promptly slid shut.

"Oi!" She pressed the button to open the door, but it refused to open. "It's stuck!"

"It's not stuck." He stalked across the room and slammed his fist against the button, with no response. "It's the old girl again, meddling."

The TARDIS hummed sweetly.

"Don't play innocent with me!" he yelled at the ceiling. "I'm bloody well going to take you to Jundarin and sell you for scrap metal!"

The button zapped him, and he yanked his hand back with a yelp. He brandished his fist at the ceiling.

"I'm not even going to sell you, you worthless piece of junk!" he raged. "I'm going to give away all your parts! Every last one of them! I might even _pay_ people to take you off my hands!"

"Doctor." Donna's hand was on his shoulder, trying to calm him down. "Don't yell at her. She's just trying to be, well, helpful."

This was not helpful. It was absolutely and entirely not helpful. In fact, it was the furthest thing from helpful.

Donna's hand on his shoulder was also not helpful. He desperately wanted to grab it and move it lower, right to where he ached. His mind was full of all sorts of images-- bad images, wrong images, downright dirty images. Visions of the things he wanted to do to Donna, and the things he wanted her to do to him. 

He stared down at her, knowing his thoughts must be reflected in his eyes. This body had never had much of a poker face. 

She stared back, and he saw some rather interesting thoughts reflected in her eyes too. She'd never been able to hide what _she_ was thinking, either, and right now he was almost certain her thoughts were running along the same lines as his.

"Spaceman," she said softly.

He remembered jerking off to the thought of her saying _Spaceman_ in a soft, husky voice. Just like that, actually. Unable to help himself, he reached out and grabbed her.

She didn't seem to mind. Her arms twined around his neck, her mouth met his, and her body pressed right up against his--

 _Oh._ He moaned again, and his hands caught her hips and urged her closer. She was wearing clothes, but it didn't matter, he didn't care about anything as irrelevant as clothes, he was going to fuck her right through her clothes, right here right now...

"Doctor." Her voice was muffled against his mouth. "How about taking my clothes off?"

That was, he was certain, the most brilliant idea he'd heard in a long time. He fumbled frantically at her top, yanking it off over her head, and then struggled with her bra, while she undid her jeans and shoved them and her underwear down. And then she was pressing up against him, naked-- _naked naked naked,_ his mind exulted happily-- and his hot and aching cock rubbed against her abdomen, and he moaned again.

"Oh Donna oh yes oh _yes_..."

She cut off the rest of his articulate and eloquent commentary by the simple expedient of kissing him again. He responded mindlessly, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, kissing her totally without finesse or artistry, his kiss blunt and sexual, echoing what he wanted to do to her body.

Her hands slid across his back, leaving trails of fire in their wake, and he ran his hands all over her, too, exploring her soft, white flesh. Her breasts and her arse and her thighs and--

Suddenly he couldn't touch her enough. He hadn't even realised he wanted to touch her, and yet it was like a dam had burst somewhere inside him, as if he'd been longing to caress her this way for months. And to his surprise, she was touching him the exact same way. Her hands slipped down his back, over his bum, and he shuddered, pressing against her harder.

He was still close to orgasm, very close, and as he rubbed against her, more moisture spilled from the head of his cock. He slipped against her warm abdomen easily, and every stroke of his flesh against hers felt so very good. He was vaguely aware that he was moaning into her mouth with every movement, but that was okay, because she was moaning too.

_So close so close so close..._

But he didn't want to come this way. He wanted more. He wanted her. All of her. He spun her around, shoved her up against the door, and used his more-than-human strength to lift her. She wrapped her legs around his hips, and he pressed against her.

She was already wet, and the head of his cock slipped against her soft flesh easily. He groaned.

"Doctor." She'd yanked her mouth away from his. "Condoms."

"Don't need 'em," he muttered. "Not alike enough to matter. No chance of reproduction. And neither of us is carrying any sort of disease."

"Well, then." Her fingers dug into his arse. "Hurry it up, Spaceman."

 _Spaceman._ He groaned, lost in desire, and buried himself inside her with one hard thrust. She cried out, her hands clutching him, her body tightening around him, and he sobbed and sighed and made numerous additional articulate and eloquent comments, most of which involved deities and her name and a great deal of moaning.

He withdrew almost all the way, then thrust again, harder than before. She was so hot and so wet and so soft that he couldn't stop himself. He thrust again, and again, struggling to keep it slow, trying to control himself but losing the battle rapidly. 

Her hands dug into him hard, encouraging him, and she whispered dirty words and called him _Spaceman_ and _Martian_ and _ohhhhh Doctor,_ and he couldn't hold back any longer. He drove into her over and over again in a ferocious rhythm. She pressed her face against his throat and whimpered, and he felt her body contracting around his as she came.

It was too much for him. He pounded into her hard, and let himself go in long, violent spasms of ecstasy, coming deep inside her in endless gushes of heat, moaning her name over and over again in a helpless litany of adoration.

At last the pleasure faded, and all his inhuman strength deserted him. He let her slide down the door, then realised he couldn't even hold himself up. He sank to the floor with her in his lap, and buried his nose in her hair. She still smelled like strawberries. Strawberries and sex.

At some point, the TARDIS had shut off the shower water, but the air in the loo was still steamy, and he became aware he was damp with sweat. He wasn't sure if it was from the heat or the exertion, or both.

For a long while, there was no noise except the sound of them both gasping for breath. At last the Doctor looked up at the ceiling.

"I may keep you after all," he said.

The TARDIS whirred smugly. _I'm keeping both of you._

"Still gonna take an ax to your console," he mumbled. "Or at least a mallet."

"Leave her alone." Donna smacked his shoulder, but there wasn't any force behind it. "She was just trying to help. And she did, didn't she?"

"She certainly did." He stirred beneath her. His muscles were so relaxed they felt like jelly. "I reckon we should get dressed."

"We could do that." She moved against him, sinuously, sensuously. His body instantly felt less relaxed. "But there's a perfectly good bed out there. I think maybe we should go see what we can do with it."

"Not a bad idea, except the TARDIS won't unlock the bathroom door."

 _Snick._ The lock released, and the door slid open.

"I suppose you've locked the door to the bedroom now," he said with stern disapproval.

Whirring laughter. _Of course._

The Doctor sighed, and looked down at Donna. "I guess we've got no choice, then. She won't let us out till she thinks we've spent enough time together. Might as well spend it in bed, I reckon."

"But doesn't she need fuel? Or was that just a ruse to get me to come to your quarters?"

"I suspect it was a ruse. She can be a manipulative old girl when it suits her."

"I don't think I mind," Donna said. She brushed a kiss over his lips, then got to her feet and headed out into the bedroom. He stood up more slowly, because his legs were still wobbly.

He put his hand on the wall, patted it gently, and whispered, "Thank you."

She whirred affectionately.

"But one of these days," he added, "I'm still going to sell you for scrap."

She zapped him, very gently. He laughed, patted the wall again, and followed Donna into his bedroom.

As it turned out, the TARDIS refused to let them out for two days.

Neither of them minded.

_-The End-_


End file.
